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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669897">Wake Me Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tjerra14/pseuds/Tjerra14'>Tjerra14</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Broken, The Whole [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, No Spoilers, Smut, commitment issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:21:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tjerra14/pseuds/Tjerra14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Down in his office, in the heat of it, she’d promised him so much, too much; a future filled with happiness, while all she could give him was a future of hurt. In her head, she argued that staying away would save him the pain she’d unfailingly inflicted on everyone she ever held dear. <em>Things</em> happened to people who got too close to her, and the closer they got, the further she pushed them away, knowing only her absence would save them. Yet every push had only brought him closer, she felt lost in his absence; and deep down, she knew that this time, it was different.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Broken, The Whole [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wake Me Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NSFW. <br/>I refrain from explicit descriptions, therefore the rating decision, but it's smut nonetheless.</p><p>Ace brain horny hours dictated I write a direct continuation to "Vehemence", so much that this was originally simply called "Vehemence, Pt. 2" but then some angst sneaked into my plans and it took a turn from there. For a fic that was originally planned to be a pretence to write about Cullen's chest hair it features next to none of it, too.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>I’m only honest when it rains</p><p>If I time it right, the thunder breaks</p><p>When I open my mouth</p><p>I want to tell you, but I don’t know how</p><p>Sleeping At Last, <em>Neptune</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Skyhold, 9:42 Dragon</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sleep was late, as always.</p><p>It had still been bright outside when Imira went to bed, barely evening, and waiting on dreams, she’d listened to the low murmur of voices on the walls coming in through the opened windows growing few and far between as the light faded.</p><p>Now the ceiling was shrouded in darkness. Sometimes, she liked to pretend it wasn’t there at all, that her chambers opened up to the brilliant mountain sky, and she would lie there, snuggled into her blanket, picturing the clouds and the night passing by until she finally drifted off. It was a peaceful image, reminiscent of carefree childhood summer nights, watching constellations, <em>this one’s Judex, and over there, Equinor, can you see</em>, perfect if not for the feeling that something was missing still. It was tainted with the absence of another one’s breath.  </p><p>
  <em>Imagine lying with him underneath the stars.</em>
</p><p>Imagine the warmth of his embrace, the softness of his voice, the tickle of his stubble as he kissed her. They weren’t mere pictures anymore, but memories of an afternoon she wanted to forget and didn’t at the same time. Couldn’t.</p><p>Someone must’ve seen or heard them, or at least made an assumption, sharing it not knowing how close they were to the truth. No matter if and how they’d found out, there’d been a rumour, and it had spread like wildfire throughout the fortress. By night-time, she was sure every smirking soldier, every nobleman craving for sensation knew that Imira Trevelyan had slept with Cullen Rutherford. She’d seen what they traded their privacy for: A smile was worth a meaningful look, an unduly lingering touch a week’s full of whispers on the quiet, a kiss snide remarks as she walked by; and this—this was the scandal they’d been hoping to sell for months. The stirring tale that would captivate the listener in busy taverns, crowded ballrooms: The Inquisitor and her Commander, a templar and a mage. Rules broken and made anew for the pleasure of the powerful.</p><p>For love.</p><p>Except he didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to. Imira hadn’t told him, bit back the words until they became a tight suffocating knot in her throat, and maybe it was better that way. It kept her safe. Kept him safe. There was nothing but danger to her longing, and it was only sensible to overcome it and stifle the affection that had superseded her caution, both in body and mind. She saw that now.</p><p>It would be simplest if she pretended it had been nothing more than a temporary diversion, another way to pass the time, but he would recognise the lie. He’d know, and stay silent, quietly acknowledging her lack of trust. Wasn’t it better to simply tell him the truth? <em>I love you, and I want to be with you, but I can’t, because I’m afraid?</em> It sounded ridiculous even in her head. She could imagine his response, too, and that made it worse: he would give her that concerned look she’d grown to know so well, take her hands, a bit too firmly, trying to hide the tremble of his; and he’d lean in and say—what would he say? <em>Don’t be, we’ll find a way? There’s nothing to be afraid of? </em>No, that image wasn’t quite him.</p><p>Imira recalled his disbelief on the battlements, the restraint in his kisses, all those times he’d tensed underneath her touch, just for a moment but enough for her to notice, to worry, <em>is this alright with you</em>, and there was his answer: <em>I’m afraid, too.</em></p><p>Maker, what was she doing?</p><p>Down in his office, in the heat of it, she’d promised him so much, too much; a future filled with happiness, while all she could give him was a future of hurt. In her head, she argued that staying away would save him the pain she’d unfailingly inflicted on everyone she ever held dear. <em>Things</em> happened to people who got too close to her, and the closer they got, the further she pushed them away, knowing only her absence would save them. Yet every push had only brought him closer, she felt lost in his absence; and deep down, she knew that this time, it was different.</p><p>It had been different the whole way through. Just this once, would a little selfishness hurt?</p><p>On the spur of the moment, she got up and dressed for another nightly walk, just to help tire herself out, innocent in its pretence. Her feet knew the way from countless nights before: Out of her chambers, down the stairs passing by the doors leading to more private quarters; through the main hall, then outside into the brilliant starry night.</p><p>At this hour, only the guards posted at regular intervals populated the fortress. Even though they merely greeted her with attention and salutes, she averted her eyes when she walked past. Too well could she imagine them huddling together as soon as they were off duty, whispering to each other, <em>wonder where she went earlier, oh, and by the way, have you heard?</em></p><p>Her feet had strayed from their usual path, leading Imira up onto the walls, towards the tower Cullen had set up his quarters in. Flickering torchlight and hushed voices announced an oncoming patrol, and she hid in the shadow of the battlements until they’d passed.</p><p>There was no light in his chambers. That didn’t have to mean anything: Most likely he was still up and working, as was his way, and the windows in his office faced the fortress approach.</p><p>He didn’t answer her knock. That didn’t have to mean anything, either. Maybe he’d dozed off at his desk again?</p><p>The door opened with a soft creak, and she found the room dark and empty, the fire burned down to embers. He couldn’t have left too long ago, for his scent still lingered in the air, and she wished for nothing more than to drown in it like she’d done in the afternoon, on the very table that sat deserted now. Imira pictured him sitting there, waiting as the moon rose, wondering if she would be true to her word only to realise it was a vain hope.</p><p>Had she ever been more than a disappointment?</p><p>The sound of approaching footsteps made her turn around. They hesitated at the sight of the open door, just for a brief second, and she braced herself for another patrol, checking if everything was in order. Instead, it was Cullen, torch in hand, cloak loosely pulled over his shirt to protect him against the wind on the walls.</p><p>“Imira?” he frowned, visibly confused. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>She would’ve preferred a patrol. It would’ve been easy to reassure them in their duty by telling them the truth: She’d come to see the Commander. Now that he was here, that truth became much more complicated.</p><p>“I agreed to stay the night, didn’t I?”</p><p>The lines on his brow deepened. “‘Later,’ you said.”</p><p>“Is this late enough?”</p><p>He took his time answering. Leisurely, he closed the door, placed the torch on the wall, unfastened his cloak and draped it over his chair. Only then he met her gaze again, eyes dark in the flickering twilight. “I didn’t think you’d come.”</p><p><em>Me neither,</em> she admitted in silence, and she could see that he knew.</p><p>“What changed your mind?”</p><p><em>Loneliness. Longing. Love.</em> Everything about him—those curls, all messy from his walk, the warmth in his eyes, that <em>fondness</em>, the way he made her feel—was too much and not enough at the same time. It made her want to run away. It made her want to stay. How was she supposed to tell him? There were no words that wouldn’t betray her, and Imira feared that if she opened her mouth, all of them and more would spill out before she could help it.</p><p>“I missed you,” she said simply.</p><p>A shy smile blossomed on his face, ravishing in its beauty, only to wilt and leave him scratching his head in embarrassment. “So, uh—I suppose this is where I ask you if you want to come to bed?”</p><p>She was so tired of running away.</p><p>“Yes,” she answered. “And I agree.”</p><p>He led the way up the ladder. The air became cooler and fresher with each rung they climbed, and at the top, she found the night fell in through the ceiling. Skyhold had been abandoned for hundreds of years before Solas had led them towards it, and time had sunken its teeth into the ancient walls. They’d started to repair personal quarters early on, however, so why had no one fixed the Commander’s tower yet?</p><p>
  <em>Unlocked doors. Never trapped.</em>
</p><p>Stars right above his head.</p><p>He looked at her expectantly, waiting on her reaction, and she beamed at him.</p><p>“It’s beautiful.”</p><p>“You’re being polite,” Cullen mumbled, sullen while he lit a fire and stoked it until the flames danced merrily in the fireplace, basking the room in a warm, golden glow.</p><p>“I’m being honest,” she corrected him.</p><p>His chambers were barren, filled only with necessities: A small desk with a washing bowl, a stool, a chest for his belongings. He’d tried to make them more homelike by placing an old rug on the floor, its colours so faded she could merely guess them, yellow perhaps, blue on the fringes. Imira spotted a dried potted plant in a corner, maybe he’d forgotten about it, or maybe he’d just moved it there after it had died. Books were stacked neatly in place of a nightstand, more victims to missing shelves. In between it all, pushed against the wall opposite from the opening in the ceiling so that wind and rain couldn’t reach it, his bed: pillows in a straight line in front of the headboard, blanket folded accurately; unused as it seemed it sat there like an obligation.</p><p>Behind her, she could hear the soft rustle of clothes falling to the floor, and it was now or never, before she’d run after all.</p><p>She’d undressed so many times before, in front of another, too. Yet today, the buttons of her blouse, the cords to her trousers, were all but insurmountable obstacles to her trembling fingers. Silence reigned if not for the crackling of the fireplace. She knew he was watching as she untied her breast band, and as she slipped out of her underpants, he inhaled sharply, “Imira—”</p><p>Suddenly, she felt cold. The room’s temperature hadn’t changed, and a fire burned where his gaze fell onto her naked back, but she couldn’t help but to hug herself tightly, trying to subdue the shivers running through her body.</p><p>“We don’t have to do this,” Cullen said quietly, picking up on her discomfort. “We could just go to bed, if you’d prefer. Or if you’d rather leave—”</p><p><em>What’s the matter with you?</em> she scolded herself. <em>It’s not like you’d never—it’s not like you haven’t been with him before. </em></p><p>Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself.</p><p>
  <em>It’s not like you don’t want this.</em>
</p><p>Maker, how she wanted it. How she wanted <em>him</em>. It was the kind of want she only knew from stories and couldn’t comprehend. How come two people looked at each other and wanted to be close, closer, one? It seemed such a strange concept.</p><p>And yet, at some point between him walking into her tent that day in the Frostbacks, shortly after Haven, and her coming to see him in his chambers tonight, it had stopped being so foreign. She still barely understood it, but with him, it made sense.</p><p>Lowering her arms, Imira turned, acutely aware of his gaze mesmerised by her movement, her body, and before her courage could fail her, she closed the distance between them. He took her hands and kissed them, a soft quick touch of his lips, one for each knuckle, before he placed them on his chest, right where they’d rested so many times before. His heart beat ferociously against her palms, fluttering in stroke with her own, and she spurred it on with her caresses, diligently, every hair deep gold in the firelight, every fault in his skin laid bare underneath her fingertips. Scars sculpted rifts and valleys, some old and smooth, pale rivers; others rougher, fresher, pink. There was an entire landscape on his left shoulder, and she recognised the pattern, the marks: these had been caused by lightning, brought to heel by someone who commanded the Fade. Someone like her.</p><p>In another world…</p><p>It was a terrifying prospect, and Cullen must’ve seen it on her face, felt it in the nails digging into his flesh.</p><p>“Don’t think about it now,” he whispered. “It’s not you.”</p><p>“It’s not me,” she echoed, <em>what if, what if</em>, panicked racing thoughts he calmed with his kisses, his love. <em>Not you. </em></p><p>It would never be her.</p><p>He marvelled at her features, tracing her collarbones, circling her freckles, one, two, three on her shoulders, counting them down towards her arms. His thumb brushed against her breast, briefly, and he withdrew his hand as if he felt he was being too forward. She reached up to take it and held it there, his warmth on her heart, source of a tingle that spread throughout her chest, her belly, her legs.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his forehead leaning against hers.</p><p>“I don’t think you know what that means,” snorted Imira, prompting a chuckle, a playful tease.</p><p>“Oh, really? Should I spell it out for you?”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>Their lips met eagerly, and eager were her fingers following the trail of gold down his chest, his abdomen, until they slid off the hem of his braies. Her disappointment didn’t last for long, as he assisted her efforts, and his sharp intake of breath at her touch ignited that tingle deep down, leaving her burning with anticipation, hoping, praying, they wouldn’t stop there, <em>I want more, so much more, I want you.</em></p><p>Cullen answered in turn, picked her up and lowered her onto the bed; and it was all new and strange again, uncharted territory, another first time. Now, bereft of the fire, the urgency, that had fuelled them earlier, he seemed insecure, inexperienced, every caress, every kiss a question, <em>is this right, do you enjoy this</em>; but his hesitation didn’t matter. Thoughtfulness was new to her, too.</p><p>So was the rest of it: Whispered words of affection, shy between their sighs. The tickle of his fingertips on her skin, cool and rough and perfect on her cheeks, shoulders, breasts. His lips, brushing against the inside of her thighs, circling, centring on the wetness pooling in between, and she gasped, “What are you doing?”</p><p>Cullen’s head perked up, face flushed and flustered, all but afraid he’d ruined the moment.</p><p>“I’m kissing you.”</p><p>“I noticed.”</p><p>He frowned, and Imira immediately regretted her words. She regretted asking in the first place. What did it matter that no one had ever kissed her quite like that? What did it matter the others hadn’t waited on her pleasure? It was all him now: his patience, his care.</p><p>His question, full of concern, “Do you want me to stop?”</p><p>“Maker, no, that’s not—that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>The relief on his face was only temporary, flashed by in an instant to be replaced with resignation. He looked so lost kneeling in front of her, all hands and head, sighing, “I’m not very good at this, am I?”</p><p>“You’re good enough for me.”</p><p>Better yet, asking, answering, asking again; and carefully, almost too careful, as if he feared he would hurt her in his awkwardness, he followed her lead. His kisses were hot between her thighs, soft at first but deepening with each subsequent one, and at her directions, he grew bolder, <em>there, not there, Maker, Cullen, I—</em></p><p>She pulled him up by the wrists, lips searching for his, tasting her own lust when she found them. Maker, how much she wanted him inside. In one, fluid motion, she slid a leg over him, turning over. They came to rest like that, if only for a moment, him on his back, her on top; taken aback by their own daring. Catching their breath.</p><p>Then, he pulled her into him, ever so slowly, and as they lost themselves to the movement of their bodies, that sudden flare of need quickening their pace, all of it—the shyness, the doubts, the fears—fell away, and all that was left was the clarity she’d felt earlier, the truth: This was as right as it could ever get.</p><p>He was.</p><p>The stars were brilliant overhead, Judex, Equinor, all blurred into one, only a glimpse of them through the broken ceiling as his fingers dug deeply into her hips, her name buried between her breasts; and she cocked her head in a silent cry until she too found her release.</p><p>They collapsed into the pillows, spent and sated, smiling. Their kisses were soft and lazy now, and still full of each other, they talked about everything and nothing at all until he dozed off. Her head resting on his chest, she listened to his slow steady heartbeat, and then, safe and daring in his arms, she told him.</p><p>“I love you,” just a whisper, barely enough to untangle the knot in her throat. “I love you,” a bit louder, as loud as she dared with him asleep, and already they’d lost some of their bulkiness, their threat.</p><p>He breathed a kiss onto her hair, and she propped up her head, startled, embarrassed, to find him smiling at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.</p><p>“You heard me?”</p><p>His smile widened, painting deep dark lines all over his face. “I did.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you—”</p><p>“It’s alright,” he calmed her, taking her face into his palms. “It means this wasn’t just all a dream.”</p><p>“I still didn’t—”</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p><p>His interruption left her stunned, speechless, <em>impossible, say it again, </em>and he did, quietly against her lips, “Imira, I love you.”</p><p>And suddenly her voice was confident when she answered between two kisses, and she could tell him time and again, exhilarated, she loved him, he loved her, honesty as she lay with him underneath the stars.</p><p>Sleep had been late, as always, but now, in his embrace, rocked by the slow rise and fall of his chest, it came willingly to her.</p>
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